


I Don't Get It

by NahNah



Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Cute, Dash wants to thank Phantom, Friendship, Pretty much it, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-04 10:01:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6653377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NahNah/pseuds/NahNah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Ah…" Dash looks caught, frozen on the glass that has betrayed him. His eyes are comically wide, as wide as his mouth that won't make words. "I have something for you." And Danny is suddenly curious. Very short story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I just wanted to write some Danny Phantom again and this is what happened.

Danny finally seals the thermos lid after the ghost inside, and hopes to soon be closing his eyes just as tightly in his bed. His joints hurt from such a long day. It’s night, a cold one, and he would much rather be at home than in the dark, very tarnished grocery store.

Food is all over the tiled floor; meat, chocolate, fruit and everything in between scattered the dark room. Even the walls and the windows (the ones that aren’t broken) are dripping with produce. Isles of shelves are tipped over. Danny pities the employees that will have to clean this up tomorrow, and at the same time is glad he doesn’t work here. He sobers at the fact he doesn’t have a job at all. He considers ghost fighting, but as a job it would have to be even worse than working here. He doesn’t even get paid.

Danny clips the thermos on to one of his belt loops. He should leave before he is seen in the middle of this mess. Or seen at all. But a sudden snapping of broken glass on the floor has him doubting that plan will succeed.

Danny turns, and sees someone he wouldn’t expect. This late? In the middle of a battle ground? What is he doing here?

“Ah…” Dash looks caught, frozen on the glass that has betrayed him. His eyes are comically wide, as wide as his mouth that won’t make words.

Danny would have laughed. It isn’t every day he sees Dash so meek and confused. As meek as a raging bull, maybe. But seeing him like this is just why he doesn’t. It’s a bit weird.

They stare for a while, Dash in awe, and Danny tired, before the ghost decides it really is time to go home now. He goes to fly through the ceiling, and Dash is snapped out of his trance, ”Wait!”

And Danny does, if only to shoot the Jock another bored look. “Do you need something, Dash?”

This seems to translate as ‘come closer’, as Dash walks further into the store from the broken glass window he used to get in. That’s when Danny sees just how badly dressed the guy is for being out so late. He is in his pyjamas. His blue, loose-fitting pyjamas and trainers.

Dash is close enough for Danny’s glow to touch his face, and Danny is floating high enough to look down on Dash. He smirks at the role reversal.

“Y-You remember my name.” Dash says, and he doesn’t close his mouth after saying it.

“I do.” Danny says, blunt. He crosses his arms.

Dash, after some time, seems to realise he is staring and then looks anywhere but the ghost with an awkward shift of his weight. Danny isn’t especially surprised. He knows how big a fan Dash is, he has said so on more than a few occasions at school. Unfortunately he is also a big fan of pushing him around.

“Dash, what is it? Is someone hurt? Did you see a ghost? You’re giving me nothing here.” He wants this to go quickly.

Dash, alarmed, looks back to Danny, “Oh, no, _no_ , nothing like that! I just,” Dash starts checking his pockets, and Danny is suddenly curious. “I just, hang on,” He reaches into his breast pocket, “Just wanted to give you, um, this!” Dash raises his arm to Danny in the air, and in his fist is something green and…

“I, ah,” Danny awkwardly looks at it. “I don’t get it.” The money stays in Dashes hand. Dash himself is going a little red. “Do you want me to, um, do something?”

“What?” Dash straightens, but keeps his hand out. “No, you do enough already! It’s for you.”

“I,” Danny starts, and eyes the bill, “I’m not going to take your money, Dash.” It just seems kind of…wrong. Dash looks disheartened, but doesn’t lower the money. _Gift_?

“But you, you do so much. I just,” Dash looks away again. “You do so much for this town and all you get for it is beat up.”

_You would know._ But Dash continues.

“You have saved so many people. You fight for this place so much, and you ask for nothing. That’s amazing. Of course, I know you don’t need to, but the media acts like it’s your job. You get nothing, so, so I thought that should change.”

Danny realises he’s never heard Dash talk for so long about something other than himself. He also realises that this may not have been such a sudden thought. By Dash’s actions and the way that speech sounded like it was rehearsed (well, for Dash standard) he must have been thinking this over for a while.

Did he race outside at the first sight of Phantom? How long has he been trying to reach him?

“So, here,” Dash shakes the money, “Please take it. As a thank you.”

Danny, who is suddenly not so irritated by the Jock’s presence, considers Dash’s words. He was right when he said the media acts like it’s his job. The news blames him for the destruction of buildings instead of considering it the avoidance of the decimation of the town, which it usually is. Most people chase him down for an autograph, not a chance to say ‘thank you’.

And yet here Dash is, arm outstretched with a token of appreciation. It almost makes Danny’s ice core go warm.

Danny smiles, but pushes Dash’s fist back.

“Thanks, Dash. Really, that means a lot.” And he can’t believe those words left his mouth. “But your words are enough. It’s nice to know somebody understands it’s not easy.” And he is talking to someone who really doesn’t make it easy.

Dash smiles back, an awkward wavy line and burning cheeks, but a smile. He lowers his arm.

There is a comfortable silence between the two, one in which Danny considers the idea of Dash being not such a bad guy. An impossible thought only hours ago, when Dash was laughing away the splendid times of shoving Danny into his own locker. He is so different in front of him now, smiling, ( _blushing_?) looking down and being _quiet_ and offering a _gift_ to someone out of a _kind_ thought.

Did Danny bring out the worst in Dash and also the best? What an odd thought.

“This place is really messed up. Must have been some ghost, huh?” At this, Danny shows his own blush of embarrassment.

“Ah, yeah, it sure was. Should have seen it. Massive! With teeth, and claws. Yeah..” Ghost Raccoons have those, so it isn’t a total lie. “Listen, it’s late, you should go home.”

“Right.” Dash nods in agreement, but doesn’t look like he wants to leave so soon.

Danny waves a short, curt goodbye and prepares to leave.

“Um, Phantom?” Dash askes, quietly, and Danny stops again, not as irritated at being stopped as the first time.

“Yeah Da- oh my God!” Being the sports star he is, Danny probably shouldn’t be so surprised Dash is able to jump up to his height and grab him. Danny is pulled down to Dash’s level, and Dash doesn’t loosen his arms as he continues to…hug him.

“Thanks for being such an awesome dude.” He says, his moth suddenly so close to Danny’s ear.

Danny relaxes somewhat, feeling no threat, only the warm arms, and smiles. He feels like he should say something back.

“Um, thanks for, ah, noticing.” He puts his useless hands onto the Jock’s shoulders, but waits a small while before pushing him away. Dash lets him. Danny floats higher. “Goodnight, then. Don’t let the ghosts bite.”

Dash laughs, but it’s polite, not humours. “Night, Phantom.” And Danny fazes through the ceiling.

* * *

 

“Son of a bitch.” Danny says later that night, sitting on his bed. He looks at the money in his hand with a smile.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't acctually supposed to continue. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ but it did.

“You have _money_?” Tucker exclaims, so over-dramatic even Vlad would roll his eyes. Danny had hoped he wouldn’t notice the note as he dug around his wallet for the change at the bottom. His hopes were not realised.

“Yes, Tuck. It isn’t _that_ surprising.” Danny shoots back, and finally collects the coins hiding beneath old receipts. Depressingly, he finds that there is more trash in his wallet than money. Maybe the note is a _little_ surprising.

“Sam! Danny has _money_.”

A call from behind Tucker, “ _Seriously_?”

“Not you too!”

“Relax, Danny, I am joking.” She says as Danny puts the coins into the vending machine one at a time. They each make a ‘ _plonk’_ sound, counting down the seconds between him and a nice cold drink. Well, presumably cold. You can never be sure with the schools vending machines.

His wallet is still open in his hand, and Tucker takes advantage of this with a quick, “ _yoink_!”

“Tucker,” Danny softly warns as he watches the machine deliver his canned drink, “Put it back.” He knows his friend would never steal his money, but Danny doesn’t like him waving it around so much. He still doesn’t know what to do with it himself.

“Where did you get it? You didn’t have this yesterday.” Danny raises an eyebrow.

“Do you,” Danny collects his drink, “Go through my wallet often?”

Tucker shows a shrug, “Only when I want to feel better about myself.”

“Ok, Tuck,” Sam says, and snatches the money swiftly out of his hand. “Give the poor guy his money- a _fifty_?! Ok, where did you get this, Danny?”

Danny takes a sip of his drink, looking at the two. He thinks about how to answer.

“It was a…gift.” He says.

“Gift?” Sam frowns, “From who, Vlad?”

Danny coughs into his soda. Of course the first logical guess as to who would give him money would be Vlad, not his parents.

“If that was from _Vlad_ ,” Danny seethes the name, “it would be burning. It was a ‘thank you’ gift…from Dash.”

Tucker starts to laugh, but cuts it short, “I don’t get it.”

“He gave it to Phantom,” Danny elaborates, “As a thank you for protecting the town.”

Sam and Tucker look at the note with new found wonder.

“That doesn’t sound like him.”

Danny chuckles, “That’s what I was thinking during the whole conversation last night, but it’s true, Dash seems to have the capacity to think about someone other than himself.” He shrugs, “Who knew?”

“Looks like the next movie is on Danny! Sweet!” Tucker exclaims with a smile and a pump of his fist.

“No,” Danny takes the note from Sam and stuffs back into his wallet, “It’s not. I,” He stares at it, and suddenly becomes uncertain, “I still don’t know what I want to do with it. I mean, I am going to keep it I guess, but I want to spend it on something…special. Not a movie or food and stuff. Something else. It was pretty cool of Dash to do that, so I don’t want it to go to waste.”

“You saying Dead Teacher Seven is a wa-!“ Sam elbows Tucker in the stomach.

“You do what you want with it, Danny.” Sam says, understanding.

Danny nods.

* * *

 

“One,” Danny Phantom turns on the thermos and lets an instant beam of light envelop the abnormally large rat. At least he hopes it is abnormally large. “Two,” He mimics the action on what he is assuming is the rat’s family, “Three, four, and…five!” He seels the lid shut and puts a finger to his head-devise. “I think Amity has a rodent problem. Anything on your end?”

“ _Everything is quiet here, exterminator_.” Sam says over the static of wind. She must be on her scooter.

“Thanks for staying out so late to check.” Danny says, floating in the comic book store.

“ _Danny_ ,” He can _hear_ the roll of her eyes, ” _I am a goth. A creature of the night. The dark is when I am most awake. Techno-geek on the other hand_ …” She and Danny stay quiet, long enough for the sound of snoring to be heard from an unknown location.

Danny laughs, “Looks like it’s a quiet night anyway. See you tomorrow, oh creature of the night.”

“ _You too, rodent catcher_.”

There is a sudden loss of static and Danny knows Sam has turned off her head devise. He is left alone with the sound of Tucker’s snoring before he turns off his own. He stretches his arms with a yawn.

He supposes he should go home, get some rest, but then he eyes shelves of both bright and dark comic covers. He smirks. He shouldn’t, but then again he sees no harm. He picks up the closest superhero he recognises and almost drops it in fright at the sound of a knock.

‘ _tap, tap’_

Danny turns, and his shoulders slump.

Ok, this is getting to be a little bit concerning.

Dash stands outside the door, the locked door, with his fist to the window. He actually knocked, like this was Danny’s home and he is to open the front door with a greeting and an offer of ‘ _coffee or tea?_ ’.

Danny floats there for a good minute, not knowing what to do. He isn’t here to give him more money, is he? Once was nice, it even made Danny’s week, but twice? Did Dash really not listen when he said just knowing he cares is enough?

After neither moving, and Dash awkwardly knocking once more, Danny fazes through the door.

“Um, hi Dash. Again.” It has been almost a week since they last met like this, but to Danny it’s been only hours between seeing one another. School hours. “Something wrong?” He actually hopes there is.

Dash is either awe-struck once again or intrigued at how Danny is only half way through the door as he opens and closes his moth. Danny sees Dash is more appropriately dressed this time, even if he looks like he threw on the first clothes he saw.

“No, there isn’t anything wrong.” Dash answers, and looks to the pavement.

“You’re…not here to give me more of your money, are you?” Danny asks, sceptically. He idly wonders how the hell Dash found him again. Dash quickly puts a fist back into his pocket.

“N-No, I,” Dash looks up to Danny, “I just really wanted to say, um, hi.” And Danny isn’t sure if that answer is worse.

Does Dash want to be _friends_? With Danny Phantom? With a _ghost_? Danny stares at Dash with eyes wide. He doesn’t know what to say. ‘ _Well hi, how was your day_?’

No, he can’t be friends with Dash. Especially as a ghost. It’s too dangerous, for the both of them, for Danny’s secret and Dash’s _life_.

And why would he want to be? Dash looks shy and harmless now, sure, but Danny has had years of experience with the other side of him. The horrible side. Would anyone want to be friends with a bully? And a hero, at that.

Danny sighs. He is going to have to let this doe-eyed version of Dash down easy somehow.

“Look,” Good start, “You seem nice and all,” ‘ _Seem’_ is a very light way to put it, “But you can’t keep meeting up with me like this, Dash. Or giving me things, or, you know, talking to me…” Danny falters a little. It looks like each word is hitting the large guy where it hurts.

Dash is looking away now, and teasing his jacket.

“It’s _dangerous_ ,” Danny insists, “You should know I’m only around when there is a ghost attacking or something! I can’t have someone following me around while I fight ghosts.”

Dash relaxes his shoulders, having been tense, and lightly nods his head. But he doesn’t look up, so Danny assumes he isn’t too happy with how this conversation is going.

“I understand.” Dash sighs, a heavy one, like all the hope is leaving him all at once. Danny almost feels bad. “But if this is the last time I can see you, can I show you something?”

Without fail, Dash has again made Danny extremely curious.

* * *

 

Unfortunately, the thing Dash wants to show Danny is at Dash’s house, not with him. So Danny agrees to walk with Dash all the way there. Danny lightly hopes the trip is worth it, but he can’t deny he is going to miss doe-eyed Dash probably as much as Dash is going to miss talking to Ghost-Hero Danny.

Danny flew over Dash, invisible, the whole way. This seemed to unnerve Dash a little, as he had asked for confirmation Danny was still there no less than three times.

After a long while (Danny was surprised Dash would walk so far to find him) they arrive at Dash’s home, and a quick trip up the stairs lands them in front of his bedroom door.

Dash puts his hand on the doorknob, and Danny doesn’t miss the hesitation. What did Dash want to show him? He seems to be second guessing whether he wants to.

The door is pushed open by Dash eventually, hesitantly, and Danny takes a look around.

Nothing. Nothing to note, that is. The room looks almost exactly like the first time he was in here. The only notable difference is the large poster of Phantom on the wall above his bed. He tries not to eye the closet.

_Wait, he doesn’t want to show me his teddy bears, does he?_

Dash walks past the closet, and Danny becomes visible with a sigh of relief. The jock walks right to his desk, well, he almost _marches_ he is so tense. He looks at the furniture, and Danny is shocked when he sees a scowl.

“…This was a bad idea.” He suddenly snaps, and hands turn into fists. He doesn’t look to Danny.

Danny shows his own frown, disappointed. “What? But I came all the way here.”

“No, just go.” Dash barks. “I get it, you don’t want to hang with me. You won’t see me again. This was stupid, so just forget it.” Dash is starting to sound like he does at school. Orders, threats, all with just the raise of his voice. But the words are all wrong. He’s being defensive.

Danny doesn’t leave the room.

Why is Dash suddenly being so defensive? Over what? _About_ what? Danny wants to see what he has to show him, he is curious. He showed that by following him here, didn’t he? Danny is very confused with this once so simple minded person.

Dash is rigid, glaring over the table Danny assumes holds what Dash (doesn’t?) want to show, and Danny realises.

Is Dash, the strong, confident, sports star, popular A-lister, top of the school, Dash Baxter, embarrassed? To Danny, this is hard to process. Dash, even when he probably shouldn’t be, is always confident and sure. He knows where he is going, what he is doing, whether it be going down the hall to beat you or to the finals in a football season. He knows why, too, and isn’t afraid to tell anyone. Yell it to them, to be specific.

 “Dash,” Danny says, unsure, “I _want_ to see what you have. Whatever it is. Really.” And it’s the truth.

Dash looks even further away, but slightly unclenches his jaw. “You won’t…judge me?”

He’s afraid to be judged? Again, this is too much of a flip in roles for Danny to proses.

“Of course not.” Danny says, almost offended. “What kind of a person do you think I am? I won’t judge you.”

Slowly, Dash loosens up. His hands unclench and move to a draw. “Ok.” He says, and Danny is surprised at how soft it sounds. The draw slides open, and Danny holds his breath in anticipation. Dash takes something out, quickly, like pulling off a band aid, and suddenly something is in front of Danny’s face.

A book. A black covered book. It takes a little while for him to realise it is an art book, just inches from his face.

Danny takes it out of Dashes hands, and the hands go straight together to tap and move nervously.

_This is it?_

Danny looks at Dash briefly, but Dash isn’t looking at him.

_Yep, this must be it._

Danny crosses his legs in the air, and puts the book in his lap. He opens the cover, and Dash doesn’t say anything against it. The first page has nothing, just confusing and disappointing white, so he flips to the second. He can’t help the reaction that immediately comes at the sight.

“ _Wow_!” He exclaims, eyes brightening. It’s a pencil drawing of a person’s face. It is of no one he can recognise, maybe it is from Dash’s imagination, but the features are amazingly in proportion, and it takes up half the page. The shading is what has Danny stunned the most. So fine, so textured, so delicate, and he can’t believe he is describing something Dash Baxter has done. He can’t believe he is holding something Dash Baxter has drawn.

Maybe he had already judged him.

He turns the page with excitement, and it’s a dog. A dog only half shaded and sketchy, but Danny thinks it looks amazing anyway. The next page makes him gasp.

It’s him. It’s his white hair, his black suit, his eyes, and he is flying. He isn’t fighting, just free, flying through the air, and it looks like the most detailed one yet. Even the background of the night sky looks like it was takin good care of.

Danny realises he hasn’t said a word to Dash yet, and he looks up.

“Dash I, I mean, this is-“

Dash is red, and going redder. His eyes are wide, disbelieving, and his mouth won’t shut again.

“Do…you like it?” He finally asks.

“Like it? Of course I do! No sane person wouldn’t like these.” Danny says, and continues to flip through the book. It seems to be filled. Some are complete, most are not. Some need adjustments, but by the writing to the side Danny skims over Dash already knows what he wants to improve on. He also passes some pages he can’t make heads or tails of. Just lines and circles.

Danny looks at Dash, this confident, shy, sports star, artist, and is overcome with how little he knows about this guy he has apparently known for years. How defensive Dash must be about this other side of himself.

But that is something Danny can relate to the most.

Danny briefly wonders why Dash decided to tell him, but when you are afraid of what people will think, what better person to open up to than a ghost?

“Dash, really, these are great.” Danny says, handing the book back. “Does...anyone else know you like to draw?” But he assumes he knows the answer already.

Dash takes the book, a bashful smile ready to break out even as he answers, “No, just you. And I like painting too, but it’s too hard to sneak paints into the house and stuff.”

“Wait, sneak?” Danny askes, and Dash nods.

“My…Dad.” Dash says. “He says art is for fags and he doesn’t like me doing it.”

Danny realises then why he is so desperate to hide, and suddenly wants to have a very violent word with Dash’s farther

“But I love sports too.” He says proudly, “Drawing is just a hobby. I’m,” Dash blushes brighter, something Danny didn’t think was possible, “I’m really glad you like them.”

Danny smiles, and looks to the book in Dashes hands. “I am really glad you showed me, Dash.”

* * *

 

Dash arrives home from school, tired of another day. He is so tired he plants his face on the note on his pillow instead of sees it. He peels it away from his face and reads.

_This was as much as I could get._

_(Why is it so expensive?!)_

_I hope it is enough!_

_And good luck with the game next Saturday._

_-Phantom_

_(Look under the bed)_

Dash is suddenly very awake and exited to look under his bed. Upside down, he has a very good view of fifty dollars’ worth of paints, brushes and canvas paper.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of hate myself for giving Dash a dick farther, but i needed a reason for Danny to have to buy the guy paints and stuff. Oh well.


	3. Chapter 3

It is a bright and beautiful day, putting all meaning to the word ‘sun’ in Sunday. This is one Sunday Danny would love to spend playing video games and not _tackling a big, raging, ugly wolf-ghost to the ground._

“Down, girl, sit! Rollover! Anything but _bite_!” Danny yells desperately, uselessly, and has to hold the dog’s head down with both hands to have a chance to catch his breath. This ghost has been shaking with angry energy for the better part of an hour, and Danny has been losing his own very quickly.

Unfortunately, Danny now has zero appendages to grab the thermos with. Great. He is stuck wrestling a dog on the slippery mall tiles. How heroic he must look right now.

He doesn’t know whether it’s a good or bad thing when the dog goes through the ground, because now his hands are free to grab the thermos, which he finally does, but now he doesn’t know where the ghost will come from next. Danny is left tense, and looking everywhere at once.

Suddenly there is a sharp pain in his thigh, and he knows the dog found him first.

“ _Damnit_!” Danny cringes, feeling the jaw lock. Danny twists to see the dog, now way _way_ closer than he wants it to be, and unscrews the lid of the thermos. He doesn’t have the energy to even say a farewell, or an insult, before he finally sucks it in with a bright light and seels it shut.

Danny drags himself home that day, and only when he is in his room does he see the hole in his pocket, and doesn’t see his phone.

* * *

 

“Oh, you are so dead. Like, fully dead. Like, Ghost Zone-“

“Yes Tucker, thank you. I get it.” Danny grumbles. He puts his books into his locker like they suddenly weigh a tone, like his dread. He hasn’t told his parents about his phone, yet. But each passing hour is an hour closer to having to beg for a new one, one Danny knows will either cost him a lot more than just money, or one that will never come to being.

Tucker chuckles, “Bout time you get a new one though, man. That one still had _buttons_.”

Danny grits his teeth, “I can’t _get_ a new one, Tuck. That is the point!”

“He spent all his money on getting his new best friend art supplies, remember?” Sam says, leaning on the row of lockers to the side. She is smirking, as if this is the punchline to the joke she insist his present was.

“ _You do what you want with it’_ is what I think I remember you saying, Sam.” Danny says in return.

“I did,” She agrees with a small nod, “I just didn’t think you could completely waste fifty dollars as much as you did.”

“I regret nothing.” Danny simply states, closing his locker. Then he remembers who has a loaded wallet in the group. He turns to Sam, “Hey, Sam, you know how great and amazing you are and-“

“Oh no,” Sam cuts him off mid-flattering speech, “As much as I would love for that sentence to continue, I have to put my foot down. I am not buying you a new phone, Danny.”

Danny was well and truly ready to fall to his knees and beg, when they are rudely interrupted.

“Fenton.” It’s short, firm, and to the point. Being addressed by Dash always has been. This particular introduction isn’t yelled from down the hall, though, and that has Danny turning around more than anything.

Dash Baxter stands tall and confident in the hallway, and it has been about three weeks since Danny has seen him otherwise. He stands alone, no possie of footballers or popular girls this time. He doesn’t make a move, either, no shoving or pushing or verbal jabs. And it looks like that is a little hard for him.

Danny realises that he is _actually_ being addressed by Dash, and that wasn’t a precursor to a fist to his torso. “Um…yeah?”

Dash is serious as he speaks, “I think I have something that you want. And I think you can do something _I_ want,” Danny briefly thinks that is a lot of thinking for him, ”so,” He take a fist out of his jacket pocket, and shows a small device that stops Danny’s breathing.

His phone. Small, silver, and yes, buttons. It is in the jock’s fist, and Danny’s mind can’t put together how it got there. Dash decides to fill in the gaps.

“I was in the mall and a ghost attacked.” He starts, and Danny can suddenly finish this story for him, but Dash goes on, “And so, Phantom bursts in and saves everyone like the awesome guy he is,” Danny briefly feels flattered again, “But then I see this,” He shakes the phone, “Fall out of his ripped suit. So I go get it for him, cause I know him,” Danny would have rolled his eyes, but Sam has him covered, “And imagine my surprise to find it’s yours. With your shitty screensaver of your loser friends.”

And then Danny realises. Oh shit. Dash has it, he has everything he needs to put two points together. To connect the dots. Danny’s secret, his cover, it could be completely blown by the stupid buttoned phone in Dash’s hands! _Dash’s_ hands. Out of everyone Danny knew, and even didn’t know in fact, he would have put Dash to be the very least threat to finding out who he is.

Danny tenses, ready for Dash to continue but even more ready to run out the doors.

“So, obviously, I connected the dots.” Dash boasts, flashing a cocky smile, letting this drag on, “But I mean, I still can’t believe it.” Then he leans in closer, to be eye level with Danny, and he pokes an accusing, tough finger to Danny’s chest.

Danny holds his breath.

“You know Phantom.” Dash states, serious as death, and Danny believes that is who took him for a second with relief. Along with Danny’s breath coming back long and gracious, he hears Sam’s snort from behind.

It takes a little while for Danny to notice Dash is waiting for the response, “Oh, darn,” Danny says, “You got me. I knew you would be the one to figure it out, if anyone.” Danny tries to keep from smiling when he sees Tucker is slowly dying with his laughter inside.

Dash seems to nod, as if he is somehow known to be the smart one.

“Of course I did, _Fenturd_ ,” He says, and the frown is back on Danny’s face. Dash waves the phone. “So, if you want this back, I want something in return.”

Danny eyes the phone, the only thing keeping him from doing chores for the next hundred years, and gives in. “Fine! What do you want, Dash?”

Dash holds the proud expression of someone who got what he wants all too naturally, “I want Phantom to meet me,” He pokes Danny in the chest, as if that would help him remember, “On the oval,” _Jab_ , “behind the bleachers.” _Jab_ , “Tonight. Then you get your phone, Fen _tina_.”

Danny hopes Dash can feel his glare as the jock struts away.

* * *

Danny has no idea why Dash wants to see him tonight, but he can’t find himself caring to find out, either. As he floats in the dark, cold air, on the oval, behind the bleachers, he can only feel one thing.

He is _angry_.

How _dare_ Dash try to find means to talk to Phantom again! How _dare_ he find those means in pushing him around! How _dare_ he hold his phone hostage! And how _dare he call his screensaver shitty_.

His legs are cross, his arms are cross, and his face, well, it isn’t friendly. Which might be why Dash’s face falls from delighted to nervous as he makes his way over the grass to the glowing, floating boy. Dash gets noticeably slower the more he can see of Danny, and isn’t even looking to him when he gets close enough his glow is touching his skin.

 _Good_ , Danny thinks, _let this be lesson in how much you can push someone around._

Dash, again so meek and shy, shuffles on his feet. He kicks some grass up. He doesn’t look flustered like twice before, he looks like a child caught doing something wrong. He seems to be waiting for Danny to start, to maybe explain his mood, but like hell Danny is going to start the conversation Dash bullied him into.

Finally, Dash starts, “Ahh…You look…angry.” He says. Danny sees Dash is holding something, something long and white, but he couldn’t care less.

“Really?” Danny says, as if in awe about this realisation, “I can’t imagine why. Oh! Maybe it has to do with the fact you bullied my friend into telling me to come see you again!” Danny supplies, and takes some delight when Dash’s shoulders slump, “And was I talking to _myself_ when I said we can’t see each other?”

Dash fiddles with the thing in his hands, “I-I know you said we can’t, but, your words were ‘I can’t have someone following me while I hunt ghosts’. So, I didn’t want to follow you! I just found Fenton’s phone and thought-“

“That you would black mail him.” Danny cuts in.

Dash waves his hands, and seems to be destressed that he has caused such irritation in Phantom. Perhaps he planned this night differently.

“I am going to give his phone back! I promise! So it’s all ok, ok?” Danny doesn’t have time to point out how wrong that sentence is, so he lets it slide for the promise of an earlier night. He pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a breath.

Ok, he just needs to make this quick. Tell Dash to let this friend idea go, and never talk to Phantom again. With his mood he might just out-right say it how he is thinking it. But then Dash says it for him.

“I, well, I will never try to see you again, promise.” He says, making Danny raise his head and an eyebrow. He sounds serious, like this was the plan. “I will never try to find you, talk to you, or anything. I just needed to see you one last time, to say thank you,” _Again_? “For all the paints and brushes and stuff.” _Oh, right._ “It was really amazing for you to do that.” He fiddles with the thing in his hands again, and Danny thinks it’s rolled up fabric, “So I, I…Painted something for you.”

Danny can’t believe how quickly his anger gives way to excitement, and his cheeks warm. Dash painted something? For him? With those paints he bought? Suddenly all he can notice is the canvas paper rolled (and being slowly rolled tighter) in Dash’s nervous hands.

“O-Only if you want it, though,” Dash says quickly, “If you don’t then that’s ok I-“

“Dash,” Danny says, lightly, to stop him mid-way. “I want to see the painting.” And he shows the first smile that night.

Dash brightens, at either the words or the smile or both, and looks to the roll of fabric still twisting. He gets nervous again and his cheeks start to burn as he talks and hands the roll over.

“I-I am not used to painting!” He says, “And I need more practice. So this isn’t very good,” Danny is now holding one side of the roll, eager to see, and Dash noticeably keeps a grip on his end, “and, it’s stupid, really…”

Danny waits till Dash stops making excuses for something he hasn’t even seen or commented on yet, “You done?”

Dash holds on a second longer, then lightly nods and lets go.

Danny shuffles in the air to make room in front of himself to roll out the canvas, and then he does just that.

He gasps.

The canvas itself is quite large, being able to take all of Danny’s view. It covers Dash, standing in front of him, but then again it doesn’t. Because the painting is of Dash. It’s his blond hair, and Danny can see the brush strokes of small gold and brown and mixtures of the two. It’s his jacket, smooth red and white and black for the seams of the shoulders and pockets. Dash’s hands are in his pockets, and the picture only goes to his waist.

He is smiling, both confident and bashful at the same time. Danny doesn’t know how a painting could show such an emotion, but it suits Dash extremely well.

Dash starts explaining, “I was going to paint you, but I figured, you know, you see you every day, right?” Danny lowers the painting to see Dash talk about it, his nerves giving way slowly to confidence, “And I have really liked talking to you. And seeing you. I just hoped you felt the same way, so I painted me, for you.” He finishes with a shrug, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Since we can’t see each other again.”

Danny looks to the painting, and then back at the real Dash, and feels kind of guilty. He had assumed the black mail and the loop-holes in the agreement were to try and relies a selfish little hope of being friends with the town hero, but Dash’s real intent is everything but selfish. Maybe he should have considered that. He is long past assuming Dash as the small-minded, one-sided bully weeks ago, right? The completely unexpected weight of the fabric in his hands proves otherwise.

“Thank you, Dash,” Danny finally says, smiling softly. He looks over the painting again, finding things there he hadn’t seen before, like the real one in front of him. “It’s amazing.”

Dash tries to hide the wonky smile and red cheeks by looking down and raising his shoulders, but this just makes his excitement more obvious.

“I’m really glad you like it.”

* * *

Danny’s head has always made a strange sound as it hits the lockers. He isn’t sure if this is because of his first-person perspective of the experience, and it would sound different if he wasn’t the one feeling the sting of skin slamming on hard metal, or if all heads have a slight ringing sound added to the bang. Either way, today is no different.

Dash holds the front of this shirt with two strong hands, and the back of Danny’s head hits the lockers when his body is pined. He can’t remember why Dash started, something about a grade, maybe a fight with a friend, but it never has to do with Danny directly, so why bother knowing at all?

Sam and Tucker glare at Dash from the side, but the big jock radiates the confidence in being able to handle absolutely anything and anyone.

“How are you so _weak_ , Fenton?” Dash insults, “Like a little _girl_.” Danny squirms, holding the hands holding his shirt.

Danny does nothing, says nothing, and waits for Dash to get bored, throw him into a locker and walk away laughing. It has become the routine, after all.

Sam, however, seems to have had it with the routine.

“Why don’t you just join the art club,” She kicks his leg, “For some extra credit already!”

It is just a suggestion, but it has Dash stunned. Danny is too.

Danny forgotten for a moment, Dash turns to her, “W-What…?”

Tucker joins in, “Yeah! You’re really good!” It is far from an insult, but it works better than any insult ever could have. Danny is suddenly on the ground, dropped from the hands that slightly shake.

Danny looks up to Dash, not knowing what to expect, but knowing his expression won’t be sunshine.

Dash is shocked, confused, and _hurt_. Danny doesn’t need to imagine why. Dash turns, and is suddenly running down the hallway. Danny suddenly feels worse than the ache to the back of his head.

Danny jumps to his feet, and turns to his angry friends, who glare at the running man’s back. As glad as Danny is to be on the ground again, he knows his friends have no idea what they have just done. What they have just said. They shouldn’t know about Dash’s drawings, they shouldn’t know how good his painting is. He has only told Phantom. Sure, he hadn’t made the connection of Fenton and Phantom with the phone, but now this?

Danny looks down the hall, Dash gone. He had bolted at just the mention of someone else knowing about his art. He almost looked scared. Danny feels guilt, and dread. He shouldn’t have told Sam and Tucker, he realises. That was Dash’s secret, and then Phantom’s too.

He turns to his friends, “I am going after him.” He says, before taking off at a speed he may have used his powers to achieve. He runs around the corner Dash did, and is faced with a door into the boys bathroom.

Did Dash really run to bathroom to cry or something?

Danny opens the blue door slowly, and at the same time tries to prepare a believable story. The bathroom is bare of any people on its white floor, and only one stall door is closed. However, as Danny makes his way slowly, hesitantly, to the closed stall at the end of the room, his thoughts begin not to be about his secret, but about the man behind the door.

Danny is at the stall far too soon for his mind to be collected, and he leans on the wall.

A minute.

A minute and a half.

No sounds come from either, so Danny finally starts.

“Dash…?”

“Go away.” Dash barks quickly, and it sounds like it’s choked. That choke solidified Danny’s reason for staying, though. Dash is hurt. And Danny did that. He shouldn’t have told his friends, shouldn’t have shown them the painting, no matter how exited he was. Dash trusted him. Danny blew it.

“Dash, I…”

“How do you know?” Dash asks stiffly, with no room to avoid the question. He doesn’t know he just answered one himself.

So Dash still hasn’t connected the dots. It isn’t as funny as last time.

“I know because…” Danny trails off, still not having a story. Then he considers a crazy idea. To tell the truth.

Three weeks ago this wouldn’t be a thought to be considered, period. Three weeks ago Dash was nothing more than a large man with an even bigger ego, who felt entitled to push people to get what he wants. He was a bully, not an artist. Strong, not shy. Self-entitled, self-centred, and couldn’t be _empathetic_ to save his life.

He would strut down the hallways, not hide away in the bathroom.

Dash, although in another form, opened up to him. He showed him the other half. For what reason, Danny could only guess from his own experiences. He can’t imagine having to hide being a ghost from everyone he knows. It’s a part of himself he has come to love, not wish to change, because of those around him.

Maybe Dash needed a reason to continue. Maybe he wanted an excuse to stop. Danny doesn’t know, but he showed Danny either way. So Danny considers showing his.

“I know…” Danny pauses, containing his ever changing thoughts, “…because Phantom loves your art so much.” He says, making his decision. Dash has come a long way from being the guy Danny thought he was, but trust takes a longer time to build.

The stall seems to fall into deeper silence, if that is possible. Danny lets out a small sigh, deciding what to say, and letting it out slowly.

“I…Know Phantom because he has to fly through my house to get home. Sometimes, very rarely, we…talk.” Danny idly wonders how talking about himself in third and first person at the same time is so hard, and yet so natural. “Two nights ago, though, he sought me out. He wanted to show me your painting, Dash. He was really excited about it.” Too excited. The truth was he sought out Sam and Tucker that night, without considering Dash himself. How selfish.

Still no sounds from Dash.

Danny tries to continue, tries to come to something that will maybe cheer Dash up. But he doubts what Dash’s punching bag has to say will do anything for his mood besides annoy, like Dash’s presents did to his only weeks ago, he compares.

How did he get here? Standing outside the door, a foot away from a hurting Dash Baxter and trying hard to comfort him? The situation seems so bizarre, and yet Danny would stay there till the man came out, or spoke. He felt too responsible and guilty to just leave.

“You _are_ really good, you know.” Danny tries. He doesn’t think his opinion as Fenton would have much of an affect, unlike his ghost half, but he hears a small movement from behind the door. He continues, “I mean, I don’t even know how you did half the stuff on that painting. The blends of the colours, the _emotion_. No wonder Phantom wanted to show me what you gave him.”

“….He,” Dash finally speaks, to Danny’s amazement and glee. “Wasn’t supposed to tell.” And Danny’s smile disappears. “But…” Danny suddenly hears the lock undoing, and Dash opens the door. He looks…sad, and Danny can’t help but feel useless in getting that to change. But he opened the door, so he must be over his shock. “Do you really mean that, Fenton?”

Danny doesn’t even know if there was a time his last name wasn’t spat at him like something disgusting, or changed in some stupid way, and it takes him a minute to remember what they are talking about because of the surprise. It’s a general question, spoken softly. Not a bully trying to get a reaction out of someone. This was almost the Dash who spoke with Phantom, but more natural, less flustered.

Danny nods, “Yeah, I do.”

Dash’s face doesn’t change, even with the praise, and it looks like there is weight of dread on his shoulders. He leans his head on the stall wall, as if that weight was physically there, and avoids looking at Danny as he says, “I guess there’s no point in asking you to keep this to yourself, right?”

Oh. He thinks Danny will tell everyone. Really, why wouldn’t he, right? Danny was the victim, and he finally has something on Dash that he is embarrassed about. Of course Dash would think his secret was over.

Danny shakes his head, “Dash, I’m not going to tell anyone.” Dash’s surprise is everything but subtle. “And, I am sorry I told Tucker and Sam.”

“I-,” Dash looks and sounds completely at a loss, “I-I, um, thanks. Wow.” The weight of dread is lifted, and he shows what seems to be a relived smile. “You’re alright, Fenton.” And he finally steps out of the stall threshold.

Danny shrugs, “I know.” _And you aren’t either, when you’re not pushing me into a locker._

Dash and Danny are silent, and it is a little comfortable, a little bit awkward, but mostly strange. Danny can’t think of a time Dash wasn’t loud, and he wasn’t annoyed with him.

As if the atmosphere wasn’t uncertain enough, they start to walk to the door at the same time. Then they stop, mirroring each other, each for the other to go first.

God this was awkward.

“Um, hey Dash,” Danny starts with a sly smile, and Dash walks first as Danny follows, “If you like Phantom so much, want to hear a little secret?” Dash perks up, interested.

“Secret? What is it?”

“He would like you a lot more if you stopped pushing people around.”

Dash laughs as if it’s a joke, but then nods his head anyway. His expression becomes thoughtful, “Hey, do you know anything else about him? I mean, he is so secretive and stuff…”

Danny smiles, and then they start talking. It starts about Phantom, and Danny tries his best not to lie too much, but then to topic changes. Art has Dash looking anywhere but Danny, then sport, which had Danny confused. Back to ghosts, and Danny had to stop himself from laughing at Dashes incredulous expression of Danny’s never ending knowledge.

Dash punches Danny in the shoulder before leaving for class. It’s a soft one, a friendly one, and Danny waves in return.

He doesn’t know if that was the first and last time they would ever talk like friends, and it was just the very unique circumstances that allowed them to be civil for twenty minutes. Danny doubts the jock would even admit to enjoying a conversation with a nerd later, to anybody.

But, then again, maybe Dash will continue to surprise him.

 

\--End


End file.
